


Music of the Night

by GrieverBitMyFinger



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Phantom of the Opera Fusion, Anal Sex, Angst, Ballet, Basically an excuse to use manga version of Sebastian's true form, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Boys' Love, Demon True Forms, Eventual Sebastian Michaelis/Ciel Phantomhive, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Obsessive Behavior, Operas, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Phantom of the Opera - Freeform, Poor Alois Trancy, Possessive Behavior, SebaCiel - Freeform, Sebastian has a lovely voice, Sex, Singing, Smut, So does Ciel, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-03-26 09:03:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13854498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrieverBitMyFinger/pseuds/GrieverBitMyFinger
Summary: A deep, captivating voice had been heard from the tunnels below the grand stage of Salle des Capucines for decades now. Some said it was the voice of an angel, blessing them all with his beautiful melodies, while others said it was the whispers of a ghost, forever trapped within the opera house with nothing more to do than sing his solemn hymns. Ciel could not decide if he believed either of the legends, but he did know one thing, someone was living far beneath the theatre. He had heard him, and he had spoken to him.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I decided to put off writing the Game of Thrones and Greek Mythology au's until I wrote this one. I still need more time to research for those and after watching Phantom of the Opera again, I couldn't get this idea out of my head! I haven't had time to write the first chapter yet, and this is pretty much the same as the movie intro, but I promise the chapters won't be this close to the original! Updates will probably be slow since this is my first try at a multi-chapter fic since 2016 and I still have other series to write for, but I hope you enjoy it anyways!

It was a dreary day in Paris. 

Cobblestone streets were damp and flooded while the air was thick and frigid; hooves splashing through murky puddles and the idle chatter of lords and ladies going about their day were the only audible sounds apart from the pitter-patter of rain.

The wind was beginning to pick up, gradually cooling the temperatures to one that would soon cause the water dripping from the nearby bakery to turn to ice, and the pouring rain to turn to snow.   
Winter had only just begun and already it had spread a sense of sadness over everyone in the city.

A week had passed since the sun had made itself known and none of the flowers offered by local florists had survived for more than two days before they grew dry and wilted, simply not meant to be carried through such harsh conditions.

Christmas would upon them in three weeks, but no one seemed even remotely joyous.

It wasn't difficult to see that all of Paris was desperately awaiting Spring and with it, the promise of more comfortable weather that would allow them to trapeze the streets and gardens without fear of ruining their exquisite shoes and extravagant skirts.

But despite the weather, the shops and restaurants were still fairly crowded, some occupants purchasing gifts for their loved ones while others met with businessmen for dinner, hoping to strike an impressive deal for their company.

Yes, there were countless reasons for the nobles of France to be out and about, each more tedious than the last.

However, an event was being held in Salle des Capucines, located on Boulevard des Capucines in the 9th arrondissement of Paris.

An event that was well worth the time of aristocrats.

A silent auction was taking place within the once-beautiful opera house, and while not a large amount of items were being offered, it garnered the attention of many in high-standing, especially those who had visited the theatre in its glory days.

Over a decade had passed since it had been abandoned by its owners; they had wished to lay to rest the horrors that had transpired within it, and in turn, escape the nightmares that plagued their sleep every night because of it.

But it could never be forgotten, it would forever haunt the memories of those who had watched the scenes unfold upon the grand stage.

The halls that had once been intricately carved from marble, stone, and gold were now dull, cracked, and covered in dust and cobwebs.

The floor was in pieces and sprinkled with shattered shards of the mirror that had hung high on the walls with the purpose of reflecting light, its broken fragments now a bad omen for all those in its wake.

The chandeliers towering overhead had not been lit in years and their chains were now rusted beyond repair, not that anyone planned to get them back into working order anyways.

They were impossible to reach now that the stairs were crumbled, and even if there were a way to safely lower them, no one dared touch them in fear of angering the dark creature that used to reside in the tunnels below the floor.

Upon a small, wooden podium on a weathered stage, stood a silver-haired man.

The man appeared to be in his late sixties, a few laughter lines around his mouth and wisdom-filled eyes the only real indicator of his age.

He had a sophisticated air and the monocle in front of his right eye simply added to that look; his finely plucked mustache and crisp, black suit showed proof of his wealth, but rather than the dour expression many of the wealthier men wore on a daily basis, he had a gentle smile.

The last of the guests had taken their seat before the stage when the man spoke, "Welcome ladies and gentlemen, I thank you for joining us today and hope that each and every one of you will find something to your liking. Now, without further ado, let us begin."

The first two items were named and sold at a decent price, leaving the lords who purchased them satisfied with their finds, though they failed to draw the attention of a blue eyed woman in the first row of seats to the right of the stage.

Not a single grey hair was out of place, apart from the long strand left to hang in front of her right ear, and her painted red lips were set in a stern line, greatly contrasting with her fair skin.

As she smoothed out her forest green skirt, her calculating gaze landed on a blond haired young-man across the room, his legs crossed as he stared at the offered artifacts with blatant disinterest.

He was without question waiting for the same thing she was.

Something with far more meaning than a poster or a stage prop.

"Lot 665, ladies and gentlemen. A music box, found in the vaults of the theatre. The brim is encrusted in gold, surrounding six sapphires, while the top and bottom are crafted of Nero Marquina marble. On top is a rabbit figure in a blue coat with an eyepatch. It's the first and only of its kind and still plays flawlessly. May I commence at fifteen francs?"

Despite his mournful eyes and stiff posture, the lord with the blond hair perked up when the music box was presented, immediately raising his hand to place his bid.

"Fifteen francs, wonderful, sir!"

The lady to the right of the stage raised her hand as well, lips finally curving into a barely visible smile.

"Twenty, thank you, Marchioness Midford. Do I hear twenty-five?"

The original bidder once again signaled that he would pay the raised price, continuing on until it had reached thirty-five francs, the point at which his competitor gave in, allowing him to claim the box as his.

"Sold for thirty-five francs, to the Earl of Trancy!" the auctioneer announced, offering the piece to its new owner before moving on to the next, and final, lot.

"It's lovely, just as intricate as he said it was... You will continue to play even when the rest of us are dead, won't you? Play for him..." the lord whispered to himself, unaware of the lingering looks from the marchioness.

"Next is lot 666, a chandelier in pieces. I am sure many of you have either witnessed or read about the odd happenings of December 14th, 1889. This is the very chandelier that hung above the audience during the final performance that day, when the Raven appeared for the first and last time."

Everyone waited and watched anxiously, silent as the grave when the white sheet was lifted from the fixture residing in the far corner of the room, revealing the lot described, "It has since been repaired and rewired for the electric light. Perfect for keeping away the darkness, wouldn't you say?"

Suddenly, the room darkened as the merlot drapes were pulled shut by the auctioneer's assistants, leaving only one source of light, the chandelier that had been raised and held in place by ropes, as it flickered to life.

The crystals sparkled and gleamed just as they had thirteen years ago, the golden frame shining with a renewed brightness while the light reflected off of the clear gemstones, casting unique shapes upon the stone pillars surrounding them.

The room was bathed in a warm and gentle glow, leaving everyone in the grand hall transfixed by its beauty.

The aging-marchioness was no less astonished than the others, having expected it to be left where it was when the theatre was closed, not returned to its prior elegance.

Despite her amazement, her reaction was felt rather than seen, as she was taken back to the time when it was first ignited...


	2. Eyes On Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I reached for the knob of the dressing room door with shaking hands, fingers just brushing the icy brass when all on its own, the door moved with a low screech of unoiled hinges, opening wide into the empty hallway beyond. Dread clawed at my mind as I walked through the door, perhaps foolishly so; after all, Frances always said there's no such thing as ghosts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I FINALLY got this up after weeks of writer's block! I decided to change my original plans for this chapter since I wanted to introduce Sebastian sooner rather than later and needed to change it to avoid being too close to the original plot. I'm not sure if I like how it turned out or not, but for some reason I thought it would be a good way to set up some things that happen later on, I also changed the point of view halfway through, but it's a one time thing. I'm sorry if it seems a little trippy, I promise it'll get better! 
> 
> (Chapter songs: Eyes On Fire - Blue Foundation, Alone Tonight - Digital Daggers, and The Rains of Castamere - Game of Thrones OST)
> 
> Feel free to hit me up on Tumblr (@griever-bit-my-finger) if you have any questions, requests, or just wanna talk!  
> 

The date was November 14th, winter was still three weeks away and yet the first snow of the year had begun falling in the early hours of noon. The sound of delighted children had filled the streets as they watched the small flakes fall from the sky, disintegrating upon impact with the ground; not that the disappearance of each individual speck mattered anyways, it was soon replaced by at least a dozen more. Everyone had expected it to last no longer than a mere hour, but to the surprise of all, it continued to fall throughout the day, gradually coating the ground in a thin sheet of frozen, white powder.  
  
Of course, the unexpected change in weather did not deter any of Salle des Capucines' loyal patrons, who were flooding in through the great doors, anxiously awaiting the time in which they would be allowed entrance into the auditorium to take their seats.  
  
Gold glittered and marble shone as ladies in dresses of all shades from sanguine to topaz gracefully flounced about above and below the Grand Staircase, arms linked with men in suits and tailcoats of charcoal and sable. The ladies' hair was pulled into countless elegant styles, though the most popular were Chignons and Marcel Waves, while most men simply wore theirs swiped back and held in place by Macassar Oil.  
  
Golden statues proudly guarded the corners of the outer railing that lined the ascending, white marble pathway in the center of the ballroom, holding candelabras high above their heads, though it wasn't hard to tell that the small flames were unneeded when so much light was already being provided by the large chandeliers hanging high on the ceiling.  
  
The announcement was made that the theatre was now ready for its guests and like a swarm of ants whose mound was poked by a tree branch, they rushed in to take their seats; however, their movements were much more graceful than that of insects and their excitement filled the air in the form of lively chatter and gentle smiles. The clock was ticking and soon enough, the thick, crimson curtains would raise to reveal what was promised to be the experience of a lifetime.  
  
It was the first show of the season after months of relentless training, separating the strong performers from the weak, and everyone involved was both nervous and eager to please the crowd. Most of them had done this countless times, most had been part of the company for years, but that didn't mean that nothing could go wrong. Every so often, mistakes were made that could easily cost the victim their career, and with that in mind, everyone was particularly careful to be nothing short of flawless.  
  
The only new member of their cast, Alois, had joined at the beginning of training and had risen to the top quickly, now promised to be in the first line of dancers; he wasn't anywhere near as anxious as everyone else, he loved to be in the spotlight and knew very well that every step and movement he made was breathtaking.  
  
The long hours and physical exhaustion were grueling for even the best of acts, so when a newcomer arose such attention and garnered a part so easily, it certainly did attract some jealousy from other members of the troupe, but that was easily dealt with. Those who deserved to be admired from up close would be placed beside the main performers, those who did well but not enough to gain the lead would be placed further back; it was fact, and everyone understood that they should never go against fact, not if they wanted to keep their places on the stage that is.  
  
From behind the heavy drapes, a boy watched as the patrons made themselves comfortable, or as comfortable as they could possibly be whilst wearing crinolines and top-hats. His silken, slate locks clung to the expensive velvet when he leaned too far, nearly toppling forward onto the stage in what would be the most embarrassing fashion, only to be pulled back by his coat collar by none other than his aunt. While he didn't go tumbling out in front of thousands of guests, her quick tug did send him sprawling back on the floor and that earned him a few laughs from several of the backup dancers and a teasing jibe from one of the lead ones.  
  
"Ciel! How many times have I told you to be more careful? You become more and more like your father every day!" scolded the ashen-haired lady, lips pursed in annoyance. "And you, Joker," her piercing glare and scathing words were then turned to the ginger currently tying his bowtie, "I've heard enough from you for one day. The show starts in five minutes and until each and every one of you return from the final act, I do not want to hear a single peep. Do you understand?" The occupants of the room nodded, and in a clear mix of understanding, respect, and fear, they scurried off to finish applying their lipstick and lacing their boots.  
  
"I apologize, Aunt Frances. I promise to be more careful in the future," a bow of the head and a kiss to the hand was all it took for the woman's face to soften, if only by a fraction. "Very well, go find Elizabeth since you've already prepared yourself. She was speaking with Irene last time I saw her. You dance with her in the third song, so be sure both of you are here within ten minutes."  
  
"I understand," Ciel began his journey to the far end of the brightly lit hall, eyes scanning the lounges and chairs located outside of the ladies' dressing room. His gaze settled on a young blonde girl, emerald eyes shining in excitement as she laced her rose-dusted ballet slippers; her joy only grew when she caught sight of her younger cousin, "Ciel, isn't it just wonderful?! We get to be in the second line of dancers this year, when last year we were behind so many others. If we keep working as hard as we have been, we might be able to get lead roles next year."  
  
The boy offered her a small smile in return, though his shoulders were tense and his single blue iris shone with unspoken worry. He had been dancing for almost five years now, but that fact did nothing to quell the queasy feeling in his stomach, brought on by the thoughts of all the things that could go wrong, "Yes, it is brilliant that we get such great places this year. But are you not even the slightest bit nervous?"  
  
Elizabeth tilted her head, her beautifully curled pigtails falling onto her shoulders with that small gesture, the blonde locks appearing to be almost golden beneath the overhead lights and sconces, "Why would I be? We haven't made any mistakes in our routine, mother watched us practice everyday. She would never allow us on stage if we were anything less than perfect."  
  
"I guess you're right... But that aside, are you almost ready? We go on soon."  
  
After a brief nod, they began to make their way back to where Frances Midford awaited them but before they could make it very far, they were stopped by one of the four lead actors, who was in quite a panic. Ciel stopped the man just as he began to frantically explain what was wrong, "Edgar, please calm down and then tell us what happened. No one could possibly understand you when you're speaking so fast."  
  
"Maurice has caught cold, his voice is completely gone! We need someone to take his place and we have no time to spare. You know his lines, do you not?" Edgar forced out in a single breath, leading Ciel to wonder if he even needed to breathe. Had the time not been running low, he might have taken sometime to seriously question that thought, but it was definitely not the right time to do that, "Me? You must be joking! Maurice's role requires singing, I have never practised for this. Besides, who will dance with Elizabeth?"  
  
"No one dances with Elizabeth, only beside her, we can simply move Doll to fill in for you. Lady Midford once said that you had taken lessons, so you will suit just fine," he thought out loud before continuing, "It doesn't matter if you've practised recently or not, it's too late to find someone else, so good or bad, it has to be you. Now, change into this suit quickly! You're up next!" a sapphire suit was thrust into his hands along with matching boots, leaving him no room for further argument.  
  
'I have never taken lessons, just what are you thinking Aunt Frances?!' Ciel thought to himself, as he rushed into the dressing room, changing clothes in what must have counted as a record time. He pushed down his building frustration and trepidation as he exited into the hallway, ignoring the happy look Elizabeth gave him and her muttering about how he should be honored, not annoyed.  
  
He heaved a heavy sigh as he neared the Grand Drape, shoulders quivering despite the blank expression he wore. No one else noticed, but Frances could easily see-through him, "Try not to worry too much, you know what to do." Joker, who was once against perched on a chair to the left side, then felt that he should add his own words of wisdom, "The madam's right! Besides, if you blow it, you can blame Maurice!" A disapproving look crossed Frances' face, but she said nothing more, simply pushed her nephew forward when one of the leading ladies, Sieglinde, returned from her first act. Elizabeth, who had followed him, gave one more encouraging grin as he turned away from the rest of the cast to face the material that shrouded him from the people behind it, noticing how much more intimidating it suddenly looked.  
  
A final shaky exhale was heard before the small male watched as the Austrian curtain rose. He walked onto the stage with his eyes shut, giving himself one last moment to prepare himself, but when he reopened them, he didn't see what he had expected.  
  
No chandeliers illuminated the threatre, no spotlight shone down upon him, and no calm but fascinated faces gazed at him in wonder. The room was pitch black, leaving him completely sightless. When he turned, everything that was once behind him was gone, swallowed up by the shadows that consumed the auditorium.  
  
'What happened?' he thought, eyes filled with horror, 'This isn't at all how this was supposed to go!'  
  
He was meant to be singing! There should have been tear-filled eyes as his voice filled the otherwise silent room and thunderous clapping, praises, and applauds falling from the lips of the spectators as he took his bow. There was supposed to be roses at his feet and his friends cheering him on from backstage, not this!  
  
There were eyes on him alright, watching him from every direction both high and low, but they weren't the gentle, or even calculating, stares from noblemen and women, they were inhuman. Smoldering fuchsia and crimson orbs watched intently, aflame with some unknown emotion, one that Ciel wasn't so sure he wished to learn of.  
  
Tiny ember-like sparks flitted about inside those intense pools of amaranth and the slits replacing the pupils of each and every eye was like that of a cat of snake, intimidating and cold, dangerous and terrifying. He couldn't escape the unwavering stare; there was nowhere to run or hide, even the stage below him had faded to match the rest of the room. A deep, but nearly silent humming was all it took for his shock to overwhelm him, eyes drooping shut and his body going limp before beginning to fall forward, into the vast nothingness.  
  
~  
  
I lurched forward as I awoke from that horrible dream once again, my breathing harsh as I swiped away the sweat that had gathered beneath my hair. Those images continued to torment me; I had long ago lost count of the number of times I had seen those scenes replay over and over again inside my head, disrupting my sleep and plaguing my mind.  
  
"Why must I always imagine such things? As if I don't have enough to worry about during the day..." I muttered aloud, shaking off my disorientation as I stretched out my stiff limbs, wincing at the popping of each bone. Drifting off while resting on a lounge was not easy on one's body and was a habit I desperately needed to break, but in that moment, there were much more important things.  
  
Like the velvety tone that floated throughout the air, from where, I don't know. That sound had somehow carried on into my nightmare, shook me from it before it carried on any longer. It wasn't the first time I had heard it and it certainly wouldn't be the last.  
  
His voice often called to me in the dead of night, tonight was no different. Shadows flickered and grew as the flame from the candelabra illuminated the polished furniture within the sizable room; a dressing room shared by all of the male, second-tier performers, its plum walls making it harder to see even with the light I grasped tightly in my left hand.  
  
For the third night in a week, I had fallen asleep within one of the many rooms behind the stage. One would think a person would be more cautious of spending the midnight hours in a place that many say is inhabited by an evil spirit. The whispers and creaks heard in every dusky room, leaving a crawling fear in all those who hear the clicking of heels and feel the faintest breezes of bitter, wintry air.  
  
I reached for the knob of the dressing room door with shaking hands, fingers just brushing the icy brass when all on its own, the door moved with a low screech of unoiled hinges, opening wide into the empty hallway beyond. Dread clawed at my mind as I walked through the door, perhaps foolishly so; after all, Frances always said there's no such thing as ghosts. But the smooth and haunting voice still beckoned me to follow, "Descend the stairs at the end of the hall and stand on the circle engraved with a star."  
  
I was torn between logic and curiosity; should I follow the sound of the man who hides in wait, for a chance to see who watches me every night and leaves tiny daisies beside my wardrobe, or should I do as any sane person would do, and run to the exit without looking back?  
  
With slight hesitation, I stepped over the threshold, remembering how my mother used to chastise me for doing things I knew I shouldn't, all because of some childish interest in all things unknown. Like how I touched the thorns of a rose briar without thinking of the consequences, or the way I would repeat things my father said without realizing that it was not something I should have said. if she had seen me in the moment I took the first step down the mahogany staircase, she would have surely dragged me outside to safety herself.  
  
This staircase wasn’t anywhere near as well-kept or sturdy as the others; in fact, I would almost go so far as to say that it's rotten. I was careful as I made my way into the basement, holding onto the rail for dear life as all traces of moonlight faded into an unending darkness that seemed to destroy all light as soon as it entered its lair. The golden flames dancing atop the wax surface of the three candles I carried didn't do much to break through the ebony veil and give sight, and yet, I had something to guide me on my way.  
  
In the distance, something glowed, a waving, violet light that radiated from a marking upon the weathered floors like the thinnest mist. As I inched closer, the wispy light began to take shape, even though a faint smoke of the same colour still continued to float about above the carving. Just as the voice had mentioned, there was a star etched into a circle, but around it was several markings from a language I was unable to speak or even recognize. The point of the star faced downwards, an ill augury if I had ever seen one, but somehow, I was even more intrigued.  
  
Every few inches around the outer circle were uneven spikes, protecting the pentacle that resided within its borders; it was far from the many insignias I had seen in my life, there was no way it could be the crest of a noble family or even a mark of business.  
  
How did the incandescent light above it swirl in shades of purple as if it were a living, breathing being? There must be some explanation, but what?  
  
Tentatively, I reached a hand towards the unholy seal, hesitating only briefly before my finger met the edge of the circle. It was cold to the touch, which normally wouldn't have been surprising as it was well below freezing outside, but it was much warmer inside the opera house. Besides, this wasn’t a normal type of coolness, it was an almost liquid feeling, one that spread from my digits all the way down to the tips of my toes. It was consuming, aching and burning as it spread through my body with the intensity of lava and the frigidness of ice.  
  
"W-what is this...?" Everything felt strangely light, as if I could float away or disappear into thin air. My vision clouded as I stared down at my hands, and when I tried to back away, I was unable. My joints felt locked in place, something I would have found utterly terrifying had my thoughts been more rational and organized. Everything was spinning, crashing down around me as all breath left my lungs and my heart pounded in my chest. And could those inky tendrils climbing the washed-out walls around me, slowly enclosing, trapping me in their clutches, really be nothing more than simple vines? With what was left of my wavering consciousness, I watched them writhe and curl; they weren't vines.  
  
I had studied countless plants, having spent half of my life living in a home with a fairly large garden containing countless species of ivy, as well as many flowers, trees, and shrubs, and none of them were ever this lively. They would swish and tremble when the warm summer breeze grazed their petals and leaves or bounce and droop as raindrops met with their delicate surfaces, but never had I seen any of them genuinely move about on their own accord.  
  
My legs gave out and I finally collapsed to the ground, knees ending up on either side of the pentacle nestled between the rim of the circle surrounding it. I blinked rapidly to keep my eyes open, a final attempt to stay alert despite my growing weariness. However, it was no use; it wouldn't matter what I did, for it was already too late to change my mind. The air was polluted, a drug released into the room by the owner of the low and beautiful voice. It must be, there's no other explanation for this feeling and the coiling darkness that spreads throughout the room like a contagious disease.  
  
A hallucination for sure, but why would someone do this? Why is he so fascinated with me? I'm nothing special, no grand prize to be envied, and I don't recall upsetting anyone, especially one who possessed such a voice.  
  
But I had no more time to think on any possible rivals out to get me or wrong-doings I had committed as everything around me blurred to black, sleep engulfing me with only one more, lingering thought, "What have I done?"  



	3. Paint It Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Searing eyes shone brighter, for no more than a split second, they appeared almost white in their brightness before dimming to the original shade they carried, "No need to fret, I will not lie. Now then, it is time to seal the deal." With a hesitant breath, I stepped closer, "And what does that entail?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had planned to finish this earlier in the month, but so many things were going on at once and I lost my inspiration to write up until a few days ago, meaning I've been rushing the last few days to finish it. I didn't have much time to beta it, so please correct me if you find any very noticeable mistakes. I'm sorry if it's not up to expectations, I tried to make it as interesting as possible given the small time frame I had left before July. :(
> 
> Songs: Paint It Black - Ciara, Where The Lonely Ones Roam - Digital Daggers, Every Breath You Take - Chase Holfelder

I awoke wrapped in shadows.

For a moment in time, I was nearly sent into a panic, thinking myself blind as I failed to see my own fingers twitching only inches away from my face. I could move my sore limbs and feel the air generated from the swishing motion I made. I was not bound, nor was I injured despite the aching in my muscles from the uncomfortable position I had rested in while crumpled on the ground. But something was... Different. No longer did the dull, rotten floorboards or wood scratch roughly against my pristine, ruffle-collar shirt and ebony cut-off trousers, leaving chips and splinters embedded in the lavish fabric, nor did a Tetragrammaton burn as brightly as the sun beneath me; whatever it was I rested upon was as cold as freshly fallen snow and as hard as the stage I performed upon. In the near distance, I could hear the swishing of water echoing throughout wherever I resided, the occasional pitter-patter of water droplets, sounding much like dripping rain, was the only other sound apart from my heavy breathing that occupied the room, colliding with the masked ground in an almost unnerving pattern. That was soon to change.

Grasping weakly at what I guessed to be the edge of a podium or perhaps an altar, I pushed myself to sit in the midst of blackness. Unseeing as I slung my legs over the side, I could feel a chipped and missing slab from the otherwise smooth pedestal chafe against my legs, sending a surge of pain throughout the limb as the jagged margin sliced into the fragile skin. The sting brought forth a sharp breath, forced from between grit teeth, not necessarily from the ache - the cut couldn't have been more than an inch in length - but from the shock of it. Whether from bravery or foolishness, I dropped from my perch once the worst of the pain had worn off, unknowing of what lied below me. To my relief, the ground was solid. Taking that as a good sign, I moved forward hesitantly, arms stretched forward in search for any barriers or creatures blocking my path. If only I had a torch to light my way. With every successful step, I gained confidence in my gait. Too much confidence, I realized too late when the concrete flooring disappeared from below me and I was plunged into a thick, consuming liquid. It was heavy, clinging to me like hands with an iron will, weighing me down and dragging me lower into the suffocating solution. It didn't surprise me as much as it should have, I had no idea where I was, how I got there, or what traps may have been spread throughout the room, but I had never assumed anything good would come of it anyways. Still, lack of shock didn't make up for lost breath, and my grip on reality was already beginning to slip as the syrup-like substance clutched me tighter in its hold. Gasping for breath, I clawed at the empty air, silently begging anyone, anything to save me from my imminent demise even as all oxygen seemed to be sucked from my lungs. Losing hope as I drifted further from where I once was, gradually sinking deeper and deeper into the beckoning oblivion, I was jerked upwards and lifted high into the air by an unseen entity. Somehow, that frightened me more than the thought of drowning and I immediately began to flail, arms waving wildly while I tried in vain to kick away the icy touch coiled around my ankles, leaving me hovering at least six feet above the deadly pool of pitch. "Ah! What the bloody hell is this!?"

My voice bounced off of each wall and corner, reflecting back thrice before everything was once again silent, like the calm before a storm... The vine reminiscent objects that trapped me in their vice-like hold were unrelenting, allowing me to move no further than two inches before tightening to an almost painful squeeze, loosening only when I stopped struggling completely. My heart was pounding so fast that I felt any second it would beat too hard and split through my chest, leaving what was left of me for the creatures of the midnight hour to feast upon, blood, flesh, bone, and all. The morbid thought brought about a shudder, cut short only by the sudden clicking of heels, tapping against broken floors slowly but surely; like a predator on the prowl, stalking its unsuspecting prey from the darkened corners of the hidden away room. Each tap of the aforementioned shoes was a form of torture in and of itself, maddening in their preciseness as they failed to fall behind a single second in their - frankly, obnoxious - pattern of clacks that steadily grew closer to me before halting no more than three feet away. Nothing rattled the noiseless air as my body fell limp, tense as a spring and as still as a corpse when two sharp eyes snapped open to gaze upon me. My mouth grew dry, eyes unblinking in my state of entrancement. Beneath those feline pupils, the irises burned like the very fires of hell itself, fuchsia, crimson, orange, and white sparkling and glinting in a dangerous show of beauty and power. Try as I might, I couldn't stop the trembling of my body from bleeding into my voice, "W-who are you? No, you know what? I don't care, just let me go!" The best thing to do would probably be to beg for freedom, to cry and pray for a savior when held hostage by some red-eyed beast of darkness, but I do not beg, no matter how dire the situation. And so, I did something that I would probably come to regret, if I was still alive afterwards that is. Without a second more to consider my hasty decision, I lashed out, foot smacking hard against a barely tangible form before long, slender fingers curled around my ankle and yanked me forward roughly. A gravelly chuckle that neared the range of a feral growl sounded from a chest that could have been no more than six inches from my face, the haunting eyes narrowing in intrigue as they studied me in depth, burning holes into my soul with every way in which they roamed, "My, my, how spirited you are for one so tiny... It's clear that you are afraid and yet you choose to strike rather than let it show, how admirable. I can feel the trembling of your form and hear the laboured delays in your every breath, you are hiding from no one but yourself. So deliciously foolish you are; to walk into the shadows, so easily disregarding your teachings. Surely, you must frequent the cathedral with your kin enough to know better than to follow the voice of one who strays from the light?"

My cheeks seared red, a bitter mix of anxiety, anger, and embarrassment hotly pumping through my veins. The audacity he has to speak to me in such a way! How is it possible for him to even see me? "I am not that small! And what do you know of light and darkness? You are nothing more than a man in a basement." But did I believe such words were true or was I lying to myself as well as him to convince my teeth to cease their chattering and my heart to slow to a steady beat? Those eyes are not human, it doesn't take a genius to see; mine don't glow that way, nor do Lizzie's or Edward's. "Oh, but you are. I could easily snap you in two if that is what I wanted. And to answer your question, I know far more of the pure and the evil than you do now or ever could, boy," his tone was low and velvety, eerily smooth with an unknown underlying threat, paralyzing me like the most powerful of venoms. I shouldn't find it stunning, so utterly intoxicating, and yet some small part of me couldn't help but yearn to hear it again and again. All words escaped me, leaving my mind blank when I needed it most to keep my wits about me. "How could that be? I attend services at the cathedral every week. How often could you possibly frequent a sacred shrine? You sound nothing like to a holy man." My voice faltered against my will, proving my apprehension and digging my grave much deeper than it already was; a guttural snicker from the man - the monster - staring so intently into my eyes, made me shiver. "I can assure you, I have no use for places such as Notre-Dame. Though, I must say, the hypocrisy and depravity that lies within is quite amusing. If only you could see what has transpired inside of the place beloved by so many, I am not sure you would look at it quite the same." Only then did I notice a second pair of eyes, and then a third, followed closely by a fourth and then a fifth. No, not just five - many, many more. It was as though they had been closed, awaiting the perfect moment to make themselves known.

"Lies. Your words are nothing more than petty lies! I know some of the people who go there, I trust them, they're good people!" I all but screeched, growing more anxious over the thought of never seeing the sun rise high in the sky again as a miniscule patch of darkness lightened, revealing nothing more than a pearl sheen glazed over the sharpest objects I have witnessed in my life, teeth - with the destructive point of small knives. When the stranger spoke again, his voice was weighed down with condescending snark, made ominous by the row of fangs moving as words spewed from his barely visible, charcoal lips, "And what do you consider a good person? Someone who will greet you with a smile and a blessing? If that is the case then you still have much to learn about humans, I apologize for overestimating you." Overestimating me? What does this thing take me for? I chose not to deign him a response, he was undeserving of one, and my own facade of fearlessness was beginning to slip, "What is it you want? If it's francs you desire, I can attain them for you, I have more than enough to sate whatever perverse things you wish you buy. Just let me go!" With a hum of disapproval, I was lowered until my soles were planted firmly on the ground, the rope-like appendages still clenched around my calves and forearms, one coming to push at my chin until I was looking upwards into the lava-born eyes. "I do not covet any form of coin; in fact, I lured you here to offer you a deal, one of mutual benefit. There is still something I wish to possess of course, but you would gain from it as well." "A deal? But if not money then what do I have to offer?" Five thin digits curved around my hand, a needle-like nail scratching over my palm as he raised it to a soft but cold surface that I could only guess were lips, void of all usual warmth and comfort that such a gesture would usually bring about, "Your voice, little songbird. With training, you could easily be the lead and I believe that I could teach you how to perform masterfully if you would allow me."

Me... The lead? No, there's no way that is possible, it's too good to be true! He wants something else, but what? "How will you be repayed? Surely a cure for boredom is not what you had in mind." The tapping of shoes returned just long enough to inform me that he had taken several step back, offering me more space to breathe. I could no longer feel his surprisingly warm breath fanning over my chilled cheeks nor did the air feel as stifling, but I still found it hard to draw steady intakes of air. It's in a human's nature to fear the unknown and yet this situation didn't add up, it didn't sit well with me; I wanted to run but I wanted to stay, I shivered and shook, yet I was intoxicated the dark, hypnotic voice caressing my senses like liquid silk, I could almost feel the underlying vibrato vibrating against my goosebump covered flesh. I was afraid, but at the same time, I wasn't. Barely a second passed before his answer came, more vague than I would have liked it to be, "Indeed it is not. But when the time is right, you will find out. I can promise you that it is nothing you would miss." I had two options and I wasn't sure which was the right choice. Try to slip away blindly or take his offer. I can't see, I have no way to walk away safely, especially after falling into what I could only describe as a lake of goo, but can I leave this strange lair far below ground without agreeing to his terms? And that's when it hit me. I know where I am. The echoes and drips, the thick river I had been pulled from, the hallway I toured before I awoke here. The tunnels. It's the only place in the opera house this large that is without windows, the only one that any form of liquid could get to without being repaired immediately. He may not tell me what he is after, but he did mention my voice... "What could you possibly stand to gain by mentoring me well enough to get me to first tier? That must not have anything to do with what you long for."

"In a way, it does. You see... When this opera first came to be, it captivated all. The singing, the dancing, the theatrics. Anyone who lusted after beauty and art would come here to sate their needs, one night to escape reality and lose themselves within the stories of tragic love and heartbreak. The colourful frocks and suits the men and women on stage adorned were a source of amazement for all who visited. But as the years have passed, it has lost that glamour. Many of high standing still gush and croon of how enamored they are by the so-called grandeur performances and the depth given to each plot. That poor excuse of an owner spares no expense when it comes to his acts, of course, but they lack the darkness and grace they once had, only deeming the great stage worthy of yearning and romance of the purest form. No excitement, no bloodshed, but that isn't all there is to life, now is it? They don't know that, but I get the feeling you do." A thoughtful pause penetrated his words before he continued in a decidedly determined voice, holding little-to-no enthusiasm, but a sliver of disgust and hopefulness, "I can hardly stomach the tones of those they so carelessly praise, they are nothing more than dogs in wigs and cloaks. Nothing more than embarrassments to the art... But I believe that you could bring back that missing piece. Your voice is haunting, unlike anything that has ever pierced these walls. There is potential there."

"So what then? I am, in a sense, meant to restore the opera? If that's what you are thinking then you must be more mad than I first took you for." A meaningful hum was given in response, as the air around me shifted directions, the creature circling me as if I were his prey; his meal, "I am unsure if I should address you as bold or insolent for saying such things, but either way, that is precisely what I am saying. It would be a shame to see this establishment decline for failed management of cast." An eery grin made itself known in a mouth full of deadly teeth, looking all too snide and conspiring for my comfort. "How do I know that you are telling the truth?" I finally brought myself to ask, feeling as if that question alone would seal my fate. "You don't." I carefully weighed my options; I don't have much to lose. My remaining family would mourn, but that would pass quickly. But what about me? He said what he would take is nothing I would miss. Nothing. I have nothing he could steal away that hasn't already been ripped from my grasp apart from my life and I do not fear death. It is the only constant in life. "Then... I will accept your offer. But on one condition." That mouth curled again, but this time in triumph, "And what is that?" I scowled, lips set in a thin line as I spoke, "Do not lie to me. No blatant fibs or twisting the truth for your benefit. You will tell me nothing, but the truth. Is that agreed?"

Searing eyes shone brighter, for no more than a split second, they appeared almost white in their brightness before dimming to the original shade they carried, "No need to fret, I will not lie. Now then, it is time to seal the deal." With a hesitant breath, I stepped closer, "And what does that entail?" The small bit of vision in my right eye was eliminated when a gelid palm cupped around it, emitting tiny sparkles of heliotrope before everything burst into flames. At least, that's what it felt like. The pain of one-thousand blades was suddenly plunged into my unexpecting pupil, consumed by heat more intense than that of the sun, and pain more crushing than I could have ever imagined. Shrieks danced from pillar to pillar, deafening me as I failed to withhold the agonized screams falling so easily passed my chapped lips. Warm droplets poured down from the throbbing eye, blood or tears I wasn't sure, but they only served to worsen the sting. I could hear the strange man speak, but I failed to comprehend any of it, too focused on the - now completely - missing vision in my right eye. My head was swimming, trying desperately to keep up with everything but falling just short of recognition. My remaining sight wavered as I was pulled from the ground, where I had been lowered in the midst of my terror, by two strong arms and held tightly against a chest that felt much too human for something hiding in the obsidian night. I had many questions. What is he? What is his name? What happens now? But before I was given a chance to ask, I felt lips brush against my forehead and then the world began to slip from my weak grasp, leaving me limp in the hold of my new mentor with few words registered before I was gone again, "Shall we begin... Young master?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr: griever-bit-my-finger

**Author's Note:**

> Come hit me up on Tumblr!: griever-bit-my-finger


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